Starcrossed (2 page)

The smart thing would be to toss them into a hearth or the river. But I didn’t have anything else. If they were worth Tegen’s life, then they were worth a damn sight more than fifteen crowns. There was no reason to carry a full purse on a job; whatever money I had was safely stashed away in my rooms, which was the last place I could go right now. If I couldn’t go home, and I couldn’t get to Hass to get rid of the letters and get paid, that didn’t leave a lot of options open.

City, royal, and temple guards patrolled the streets at all hours of the day, and they spread news among each other like a plague. An injured Greenman would have the whole lot of them on the hunt for the attacker’s accomplice. There wasn’t anybody I trusted enough not to give me up for that kind of crime. I had to get out of Gerse.

Finally, a pale, uneven light filtered through the narrow window. Night was fading, and with it, the last of my cover.

I hauled my sore body up from the floor and tested my leg. It would hold me, without limping, but wasn’t any too happy about it. I could creep upstairs and help myself to something from the tavern kitchen, or the tavern strongbox, or the tavern patrons . . . but a sudden jostle of voices from the river walk quenched that notion. I had to get moving.

I had to get
dressed
. I tucked the letters into my corset and pulled on the green dress, doing my best with the inconveniently placed laces and my inconveniently placed wound, then hoisted myself onto one of the barrels and watched through the ironwork. Richly shod feet passed by, inches from my nose. I was nothing more than a mouse in the corner, a pigeon on a windowsill.

When the walk was clear, I eased off the barrel and shook myself tidy. There wasn’t so much blood — only a smear on the inside of my sleeve and a few drops on my skirt, not that noticeable on the dark silk. I bundled my black dress around a loose brick I found on the floor, strode out onto the wharf as if I belonged there, and pitched the clothes into the water, for the mudlarks to find at low tide.

I needed a lady’s maid, a snub-nosed little dog, a
basket
, for gods’ sake! I was too exposed out here alone. I kept wanting to slink back into the shadows, but shadows were scarce in the morning on the river. Oss Harborway was bustling this late in the season, the river walk busy with fishermen, merchants, and Nob Circle servants stocking up on the morning’s provisions. I cast about for where to turn next, but it was nothing but tall white houses to my left, and clear gray water to my right. Boats crowded the harbor, a tangle of hulls and masts and the sleek black bodies of swift little river cruisers.

The river was my best hope, but how was I going to sneak onto a boat looking like a lost nob?

I swept my skirts out in a wide arc, giving me room in all that fabric to move along at a pretty good clip, up out of the tavern’s neighborhood, toward the busier section of the city. It wasn’t much past dawn, and sunlight bounced off the green-tiled roof of the Celystra, making the temple complex glitter in the morning like a field of emeralds. It was only the roof; the temple and its guards were safely behind a wall three streets away, but my gut clenched as I hurried past, ready to get as far as possible from the goddess Celys and her dogs.

“Hey, greensleeves!”

I didn’t hear him at first. I was looking over a merchant trader, trying to decide if I could get hired on as a boy-of-all-work. I’d have to waylay a
real
boy, and shake him down for his clothes, of course —

“Milady! You there — greensleeves.”

This time my attention snapped to the bank, as I realized that comment was directed at me. I hammered down the jolt in my throat and forced myself to look down calmly.

A long, gaily painted plea sure skiff had drawn up beside me, and a young nob in an absurd hat was leaning over the side, waving at me. The amber of his ring sparked like a flame in the sunlight. I took an involuntary half step backward, but he didn’t
look
like a Greenman. . . .

“Milady greensleeves, pray tell us, do you know how much farther to the city gates? I promised my companion here that I’d get him out of Gerse. There’ll be a copper in it for you.”

I hesitated, glanced across the riverway. How could anyone not know where the gates were? I straightened my shoulders and kept walking.

“All right, a silver.” The nob dipped his oar into the water, pushing the boat a few yards forward — following me. This time I stopped and looked his way. He wasn’t alone; there were two girls and another young man in the boat with him. They reeked of money, but looked like they’d all slept in their clothes. Or hadn’t slept at all, maybe.

The young nob fished inside his slops and withdrew a coin, which he held out to me, like baiting a shy dog. My frown deepened. The longer I stood here in the sun, the better the chances somebody would see me.

“Take me aboard and I’ll show you,” I said.

A grin spread across the young nob’s face. “Ah, a counteroffer! But democ racy reigns in this boat; we’ll have to take a vote. What say you all?” He turned to his companions with a wave of his arm.

I didn’t have time for this. I shrugged and started down the pier again.

“No, milady, wait — you have a deal.” He rose up with exaggerated grace and offered me his hand, the silver coin still glinting in his palm. Suddenly suspicious, I drew back and glared at him.

“I’m not a prostitute.”

“Of course you’re not,” Absurd Hat said with a soothing smile. “Still, I thought you might be able to cheer my friend up.” He gestured toward the other young man, who sat hunched and sour-faced, as if he’d spent a hard night.

“He looks like he’s had plenty of good spirits already,” I retorted. The girl beside Absurd Hat, a thin beauty with the requisite vast green eyes and light brown hair, gave an unbecoming snort. The other girl, a plump brunette crammed into her high-waisted velvet gown, watched me with worried eyes.

“Leave her alone, Raffin,” she said.

“Shut up, Merista,” said Beautiful. “You — what’s your name?” Her voice fairly dripped with snobbery. Nobs.

“Don’t be scared,” Raffin said. “You can tell us. What are you doing on the docks all alone, in that
stunning
gown?”

Beautiful snickered.

“Flown your fetters, have you?” he continued. “Well, us too. I’m Raffin Taradyce — you may have heard of me — and my companions are the Lady Phandre Séthe, Durrel of Decath, and the very proper Merista Nemair.”

My empty belly tightened. Taradyce — of course I’d heard of him. I’d done work for his father, but I’d never met the son. Sons. I racked my brain, trying to remember — was this the heir? No, he couldn’t be. Not gadding about on the river all night with a son of Decath and two noble girls.

“Where are you going?” I said, not sure how to pitch my voice. Who did they take me for? Who
might
they take me for?

“Nowhere,” said Durrel, the first word he’d spoken. “Raff, would you turn the damn boat around? The sun’s in my eyes.”

“Oh, the gratitude!” cried Raffin. “After all I’ve done for you! And look, I’ve practically plucked you the finest fruit this side of Gerse town. The least you could do is be a bit welcoming. We’re Dur’s bachelor party,” he added confidingly to me.

“You’re his what?”

Raffin threw an extravagant arm around his friend, who looked like he’d punch him if he could only summon the energy. “Milord Durrel has just had the exquisite good fortune of meeting his betrothed. So we had to cheer him up.”

“You seem to have done a fine job,” I said, and immediately cursed my loose tongue.
Careful, Digger, careful
.
You are
not
their class; you can’t just speak to them like that.

“That’s why we need you,” Raffin said, climbing out of the boat. I forced myself to hold my ground. I had a knife in my boot — I could use it, if I had to. Although stabbing a son of Taradyce in broad daylight in Nob Circle . . . not the way to go undetected. “To round out the numbers,” he continued.

“Hey!” Lady Phandre squawked. “How does five round anything out?”

“Fetch your mind from the gutter, milady — Meri’s his sister! Or near enough. What say you, Lady? Join our little party?”

“Where are you going?” I asked again, glancing toward the shoreline.

“Anywhere! Downriver, certainly. It’s a day’s sail to Favom Court — Decath lands. Dur has a whole day and a night to decide just how far he wants to run.”

At least a day outside the city, a whole day to decide what to do with myself. A day away from Greenmen — but a day between me and my pay. I pinched my finger. Better to just abandon the dream of those fifteen crowns; fat good they’d do me in the dungeons. The sharply angled sunlight was softening to dawn now, the moons fading from the sky, all but Tiboran, ever visible day and night, both constant and inconstant. Was this boatful of drunken strangers the fickle god’s idea of a gift? An apology?

Half a moon now: even chances. I fingered the silk of my skirts, trying to think. And the sun rose higher, and the Greenmen would be changing shifts . . .

Don’t trust anybody.

“Why me?”

“You’re pretty,” I heard Raffin say, just as Phandre said, “He’s bored.”

That I believed. I wasn’t that pretty: A year ago, I’d still been able to pass as a boy.

The merchant trader had hauled anchor, and was pushing away from the docks.

I looked around carefully. Still no sign of Greenmen. Yet.

“Do you have any food?”

They had food, and plenty of it — the remains of a lavish feast, abandoned halfway through when thirst overtook their appetites. Once I was settled in the boat, Raffin pushed me a tray laden with the carcass of a peacock (I think), and Durrel blanched as it passed over him. I tore a piece of cold meat from the bird and shoved it in my mouth, as much to stop myself from screaming, “Row! Row!” as to quiet the roaring hunger in my belly.

Merista sat across from me as I ate, looking worried. She was obviously the reluctant party in this outing. Raffin had said she was Durrel’s sister, or near enough. Cousins, raised together? The Decath were like that, intertwined with every noble family in Llyvraneth, and probably beyond. It was impossible to tell how important these two were. People said the Decath were ciphers; nobody could pin them down politically. That could be useful — or it could be dangerous. I had no idea who Merista’s family was, but the plump little pussycat didn’t seem like much of a threat.

“What’s your name?” Phandre demanded again. This time I was prepared to answer.

“Celyn.”

“Of course it is,” said Raffin, pinching off a bit of my meat. The Taradyce were minor nobles, but they owned half the riverfront in Gerse, and court circles in town were overrun with Taradyce brats and Taradyce bastards. He didn’t wear the round green brooch the nobs affected to show their loyalty to Bardolph, and he didn’t strike me as a rat who’d lark out strangers to the guards for a handful of gold marks. Not that I was ready to wager my life on that yet.

“Your
family
name,” Phandre said impatiently. Hers — Séthe, he’d said? — meant nothing to me, but she obviously thought herself something special. Clad all in green, the only one of the lot, besides me. No brooch either — and if she’d had one, I’d have lifted it. She reminded me of a kestrel, the beautiful but temperamental hunting birds flown by the nobs. You never knew whether they would nibble sweetly from your fingers, or lash out and nip a chunk of flesh from your hand.

“Contrare,” I said, hoping somebody would remember that.

“Never heard of them.”

“I have,” came an unexpected voice. Durrel slid upward in his seat. His doublet — neutrally gray and broochless — was much the worse for a night in a boat, and he tugged unconsciously on its hem. He had a boyish face and a shock of mousy hair, untidily smashed by his soft cap. “Jewelers, right? Up in the Third Circle?”

“I — yes.” Why had he said that? Durrel watched me evenly, an unreadable expression in his dark eyes. This was just as likely to be a trap as it was to be helpful, but for now it was all I had. At least he’d picked something I actually
knew
about.

“Merchants.” I could
hear
the sneer, even if she hadn’t made it plain on her face.

“Oh, Phandre, leave her alone.” This from Merista. “What happened to you? Did you run away?”

Better and better. I nodded faintly, glancing to shore. Where were they? You couldn’t go an hour in the city without seeing one on the nearest street corner —

“Indeed?” Raffin said. “Here, have some grapes. Tell us, what circumstances did the merchant’s daughter find so intolerable?”

“What?” I hadn’t been listening.

“Yes, do tell. Who were you running away from? Arranged marriage? Overbearing nurse? This should be amusing.” Phandre gave a barely disguised yawn, then broke into a grin. “I know — you’re a Sarist!” She shrieked with laughter, much too loud.

“Phandre, that’s
enough
.” Raffin’s voice had turned abruptly hard, and he grabbed her wrist. Phandre yanked her arm away, but seemed to realize she’d gone too far. She sank a little lower in her seat.

“Ignore her, Celyn,” Raffin said. “I don’t know why we let her out of her cage.”